“Why does the McGill stay away from New Jersey?” Allie asked Pinhead, the next time she caught him alone.

“It’s something he doesn’t like to talk about,” Pinhead told her.

“That’s why I’m asking you, not him.”

Pinhead held his silence as a few crew members passed by. When they were gone, Pinhead began to whisper.

“It’s not all of New Jersey he stays away from,” Pinhead said. “It’s just Atlantic City.”

Allie knew all about Atlantic City. It was the Las Vegas of the East Coast: dozens of hotels and casinos, a boardwalk full of fudge and saltwater taffy shops. “Why would the McGill be afraid of a place like that?”

“He was defeated there,” Pinhead told her. “It happened at the Steel Pier. See, there are two amusement piers in Atlantic City that burned down years ago, and crossed over into Everlost. The Steel Pier, and the Steeplechase Pier. They became a hangout for ‘The Twin Pier Marauders,’ a gang of really rough Afterlights—probably the nastiest gang there is. Anyway, the McGill raided them twenty years ago, and they fought back. It was a terrible battle, and in the end, they had hurled the McGill’s entire crew into the sea, and captured the McGill.”

“Captured him?”

Pinhead nodded. “They took him to the Steeplechase Pier, and chained him upside down from his feet to the parachute-drop ride, and up and down he went every thirty seconds for four years … until one of the Marauders turned traitor, and set him free.”

“I’m surprised he told you something like that.”

“He didn’t,” Pinhead said. “I was the one who set him free.” Then Pinhead looked at her, studying her face. “I’ve answered your questions,” Pinhead said. “Now I have a question for you. I want to know if you really are teaching the McGill to skinjack.”

Allie carefully sidestepped the question. “Well, it’s what he wants.”

“The McGill shouldn’t always get what he wants.”

She wasn’t expecting that response from Pinhead. “But … don’t you want your master to have that skill?”

“He’s my captain, not my master,” Pinhead said, some indignance in his voice. He thought for a moment, looking down, then returned his gaze to Allie. It was now a powerful gaze, full of urgency, and maybe a little accusation. “I don’t remember a lot from my living days, but I do remember that my father—or was it my mother—worked in a madhouse.”

“A mental institution,” Allie corrected.

“When I was alive, they didn’t have such nice words for them. Sometimes, I would get to go in. The people there were very sick—but some were more than sick. Some were possessed.”

“Things have changed,” Allie pointed out. “They don’t think that kind of thing anymore.”

“It doesn’t matter what they think; I know what I know.”

Pinhead’s thoughts drifted away for a moment. Allie couldn’t imagine what it would be like to walk through an old-world asylum. She didn’t want to know.

“Even when I was alive, I knew the difference between the sick ones and the possessed ones. You can see it in their eyes. My mother—or was it my father—said there was no such thing as possession, but you know it happens, because you’ve done it yourself.”